


Change My World

by alysian_fields



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-09
Updated: 2011-03-09
Packaged: 2017-10-16 20:00:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/168817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alysian_fields/pseuds/alysian_fields
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean wakes up the morning after Ellen and Jo's funeral, it's to find himself transported to another world, and only Castiel can help him get home again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change My World

It’s fairly safe to say that Dean Winchester is not a man who is easily surprised. He has been dealing with every kind of possible and impossible shit since he was four years old. He’s been to hell and back. He’s been a lynchpin in an apocalyptic battle between angels and demons. Hell, he’s even been to a Motorhead concert where Lemmy decided to do an impromptu acoustic set. There isn’t much left that can shock him.

Still, when Dean wakes up in the same motel room he went to sleep in last night, and looks over and sees a strange girl sleeping in the bed where Sam should be, he’s a little mystified to say the least. He’s fairly sure that his brother didn’t get lucky last night. After all, they’ve only just got back from Ellen and Jo’s funeral; neither of them was exactly in the mood for partying. They’d pretty much just crashed as soon as they got in, too tired and miserable to do more than exchange a couple of words. Had Sammy gone out after Dean had fallen asleep? It wouldn’t be the first time. But if he had, then he and this girl had been doing… God knows what _in the same room that Dean was sleeping in_. And that was just all kinds of wrong.

He gets out of bed and reaches over to where he left his backpack, thinking that it would be a good idea if he pulled on some jeans. Except… that’s not _his_ backpack. Dean experiences a mild sensation of panic. This is exactly the kind of thing he did not want to have to deal with right now. There’s nothing for it – he’s going to have to wake up the mystery woman and see if she can shed any light on what’s going on. This is going to be awkward.

Dean clears his throat. The strange girl sighs and turns over. She looks kind of familiar, now Dean comes to think of it. Maybe they have met before, though he really couldn’t place where. Not that that’s anything new when it comes to women.

“Um… excuse me?” Dean says gruffly, painfully aware that he’s standing there in his boxers and an old Metallica t-shirt. “Hello?”

Finally, the girl opens her eyes and stares blearily up at him, a slight frown puckering her brow. She sits up and glances over to the bed Dean has just left, then back up at him.

Dean clears his throat again, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, sorry to wake you, but I was wondering if you knew where—”

Dean doesn’t get any further because at this point, the girl reaches under her pillow and pulls a gun on him. Sam’s gun. “Who are you?” she demands. “And what the hell have you done with my sister?”

“Woah!” Dean backs up a little, raising his hands. “Look, take it easy, okay? I just want to know where—”

“Where is she?”

“What? Listen, lady, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re the one who’s appeared in my motel room overnight, okay?”

“Excuse me? I think you’ll find that this is _our_ room. See, that’s Deanne’s backpack, that’s her knife, those are the jeans she was wearing last night. Now, I’m going to ask you one last time. Where. Is. My sister?”

“Look, just… slow down, okay? I don’t know what’s going on any more than you do. I… are you saying that you have no idea where my brother is? Tall guy, floppy hair, doom-laden expression?”

“Listen, buddy, I think you should be the one answering the questions right now. And you can start by telling me who the hell you are.”

Dean breathes a sigh. It’s way too early in the morning for this crap. “My name is Dean Winchester, and I was—”

“Wait, what? Winchester? No, that’s… that’s not possible.”

“I wish I could agree with you there, but—”

“No. No, I’m telling you, it’s not possible.”

This chick has an annoying habit of interrupting Dean. “And why is that?” he replies testily.

“Because I’m Sam Winchester, and I’ve sure as hell never heard of you.”

Dean swallows. “Um, okay. That’s about the last thing I thought you’d say. You… you can’t be Sam Winchester. See, my brother’s Sam Winchester, and last time I checked he was definitely a dude. Wait… what did you say your sister’s name was?”

The girl looks at him suspiciously. “Deanne. Deanne Winchester, and I’m Samantha.”

Dean sits down heavily on the bed. “Oh. Crap.” He looks up at the girl. “My name’s Dean.”

Samantha slowly lowers the gun. “You… you really don’t know what’s going on here, do you?” Now that Dean’s looking at her properly, he can definitely see why she had seemed so familiar. She’s Sam. Well, girl-Sam. She has all of his expressions, his way of saying certain words, his way of looking at you like you’re the biggest moron ever to breathe oxygen.

“I… I have no idea. Look, I think that something might have happened. I mean, if you’re telling the truth about who you are, and… and if I’ve not gone buckets of crazy overnight, then… I think that… that your world and my world must have got… smooshed.”

Girl-Sam raises an eyebrow in that familiar way Dean hates. “Alternate universes? Are you kidding me?”

“Well can you think of another explanation?”

“Um… you’re some crazy person who’s kidnapped my sister? Or a demon?”

“Look, you wanna throw holy water on me, go ahead. But if I were a demon, do you really think I’d go to such elaborate lengths? I can’t explain what’s going on here, but… but maybe we can figure it out together, okay? Listen to me… my name is Dean Winchester, and my little brother’s called Sam. We were raised as hunters after our mom was killed by a demon. And right now… right now we’re both trying not to become the meat puppets for Lucifer and the Archangel Michael. It’s… it’s not going so well.”

Samantha looks shaken. “It was Dad. It was Dad who died that night in my nursery.” She stares at Dean, and he recognises the look that Sam gives when he’s trying really hard to figure something out. “Okay,” she says at length. “Okay, say I believe you. Say you’re really… like… some weird alternate version of my sister. It still begs the question of what the hell you’re doing here, and what’s happened to Deanne.”

“You think I don’t want to know that too?”

“Right. Okay. Um… I’m calling Bobbie.”

“Oh, thank God, you’ve still got Bobby.”

Samantha gives him a puzzled look. “Well… yeah. But first things first – drink this.” She hands Dean a hip flask.

He unscrews the cap and sniffs the contents suspiciously.

“Holy water,” Samantha says. “You know, just to be on the safe side.”

…

“Oh, this is a horrible idea.”

“You got a better one?” Girl-Sam gives Dean that pissy look he knows so well.

“I guess not, but… I just hope Bobby’s got some answers.”

“If anyone does, it’ll be her.”

“Wait… her? Your Bobby’s a chick?”

“Yeah, of course she… you mean yours is a guy? Wow. That’s gotta be weird.”

At least the car looks the same. Dean feels very proud of his female self, and kind of hopes that he gets to meet her, wherever she is, before this is through. They could have some times. And that’s the weirdest thing Dean’s thought in a while. “So… your sister. What’s she like?”

Samantha huffs a laugh. “You should know. She’s… she’s my sister. She’s a lot like you, only…”

“Only what?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s she look like? She hot?”

“Dude! She’s my sister!”

“I was only asking!”

Samantha makes a noise of disgust. “If you _must_ know, there’s a photo of us in my purse.” She reaches into the back seat and grabs a brown leather satchel. Eyes still on the road, she rummages in one of the side pockets and pulls out a picture.

“Oh, Sammy, I can’t believe you have a purse,” Dean says as he takes the photo. Huh. Well, he can definitely see the resemblance. The girl standing with her arm around Samantha in the photo has his eyes, and his grin. She also has bright red hair, which is a little… disconcerting. Still, she’s… “Niiiice.” Dean says.

“Ugh. Dude, this is too weird. Gimme my photo.” Samantha snatches it back.

“What? I’m just sayin’, girl me is looking pretty good.”

Samantha makes that snorting noise Sam always makes when he’s being especially contemptuous of something Dean does. “Yeah, well, even if we do figure out what’s going on and you get to meet her, she wouldn’t go for you.”

Dean can’t help but feel a little affronted. “Why not?”

“Well, I wish I could say that it’s because she’s not a pervert, but… the truth is, you’re just not her type.”

“What?! That’s ridiculous.”

Samantha shoots a look at him. “Wow. You really are alike. No, I’m sorry to break this to you, but you’re not. She tends to go for the serious, quiet, brooding type.”

“Oh.” Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “That’s… weird. Look, are you sure you couldn’t find me some clothes? I don’t exactly like the idea of strolling into a weird female Bobby’s house wearing what I’ve slept in. Like the situation isn’t awkward enough as it is.”

“Oh, yeah, cause I always carry around a spare set of guys clothes just in case my sister’s male double shows up overnight,” Samantha says, her voice rich with sarcasm. “Listen, dude, I told you you’re welcome to whatever we’ve got.”

“Thanks, but no thanks.” Deanne’s personal style was pretty close to Dean’s, it’s true. Still, he’s not going to kid himself. Panties were one thing, but there’s no way he’s even going to try and squeeze himself into women’s size six jeans.

…

Being around Bobbie is _weird_. Mostly because she’s so damn much like Dean’s Bobby that it’s uncanny. She even wears the same old weather-beaten cap. Thankfully, she at least has managed to find Dean some clothes. Dean assumed that Bobby would always be prepared for every possible eventuality, regardless of gender.

“—what the hell we’re going to do, Bobbie! You… you don’t think it’s the angels again, do you?” Dean hears girl-Sam say as he heads back into Bobby’s – no, Bobbie’s – kitchen. Both women look up at him as he walks in.

“So, Dean,” Bobbie says, in a way that makes it clear that there are invisible sarcastic quote marks around his name. “You sure there’s nothing else you can tell us?”

“Yes!” Dean replies defensively. “Look, I get that this is weird for you all, but I’m the one who’s been transported into some freaky world of opposites overnight.”

“And nothing happened last night in… in your world? Nothing that might’ve led to this?”

“No! Look, me and Sam got back from the funeral and we crashed. That was it.”

Samantha looks up at him curiously. “Funeral?”

Just then, they hear the sound of tyres on gravel outside. “Oh good,” Bobbie says, getting to her feet. “They’re back.”

“Who?” Samantha asks.

“Joe and Allan. They’ve been helping out with that poltergeist situation, remember? Maybe they can shed some light on what the hell is going on around here.”

“Allan and Joe…” Dean says. “Wait, Jo and Ellen? They’re… they’re alive?”

Samantha looks at him, puzzled. “Well, yeah.”

Dean swallows. “It’s their funeral I just got back from.”

Samantha’s eyes grow very wide.

“Look… I don’t know how close our two worlds are, but… but if you guys ever team up at all over this whole apocalypse thing, just… just be careful, okay?”

Samantha looks like she’s about to say something, but just then the door opens and two men walk into the room.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Dean says quietly, getting to his feet. “It really is you.”

Allan and Joe look at him like… well, like he’s some random guy they’ve never met before saying something completely inscrutable to them.

“Hey, guys,” Samantha says, running a hand through her hair. “Um… this is Dean.”

…

Bobbie’s coffee tastes good. Dean thinks that it might actually be better than Bobby’s, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to let that on when he gets back home. If. But Dean’s not going to think about that ‘if’ right now. He’s going to think about how good the coffee feels when it burns down his throat, and how there’s stuffing leaking out of the old armchair he’s sitting in, and how there’s a dead fly on the windowsill. He’s taught himself over the years not to panic. Just focus on things that don’t matter, ground yourself, don’t allow yourself to dwell for too long on the shit-storm you’re caught up in, because that’s when your chest starts to tighten and your palms start to sweat. Don’t think about how you’ve left Sammy on his own. Don’t think about how weirdly Joe looks like Jo, and how you’re never going to see her again. Just think about regular things. Human things.

“Needless to say, this just doesn’t make any sense!” Allan is saying. “I checked all the weather reports, and there’s nothing to signify any kind of supernatural activity. No electrical storms, no fluctuations in temperature…”

Joe shifts impatiently in his seat, shooting Dean a weird look. “Aren’t we wasting time? Shouldn’t we be out there looking for Deanne? I mean, she could be anywhere, and we’re just sitting around doing _research_?”

“Joe,” Allan says patiently in a way that’s so familiar it makes Dean’s chest hurt. “We can’t just go driving off, all guns blazing, till we know what we’re dealing with here. If this… Dean is right, then we may not be able to find Deanne at all.”

Another dirty look from Joe. “And you guys are seriously buying all this alternate universe bull?”

“Hey!” Dean protests. “I think it’s as crazy as you do! But the thing is, I’ve turned up here now, and this sure as hell isn’t my world, so unless you’ve got a better explanation…” He trails off as he looks at Joes face. He’s got that expression Jo always has – had – when she was angling for a fight. This is the closest Dean’s ever going to get to being with her again, and he doesn’t want it to be like this. He sighs wearily. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m just… tired. I know how you feel, believe me, and I wish I could get… the other me back to you too.” He looks up at Joe, half guiltily. “I know how much you care about her.”

The corner of Joe’s mouth twitches, and he looks away.

“If I can find a way to stop being your problem… believe me, I will. I want to get home too.”

“Okay, honey,” Bobbie says. “It’s okay. We just all need to put our heads together.”

Dean pulls a face. “Bobbie… don’t call me ‘honey’. It’s… weird.” He presses his lips together. Suddenly, being around these people is just too difficult. Seeing another world where everything is so familiar, yet things have turned out so completely different makes him wonder… makes him wonder whether they could have done things differently as well. Whether if they had, Ellen and Jo might be back at Bobby’s place right now, alive and well. Guilt twists at his insides.

“I gotta get some air,” he says to no one in particular. “Just… give me a minute, okay?”

He thinks that Samantha tries to stop him, but he doesn’t pay any attention. He just needs to be by himself right now. Just for a minute, just to clear his head.

It’s getting dark out now. Dean turns up the collar of the jacket Bobbie’s given him, and stuffs his hands into the pockets. He wonders what Sam – _his_ Sam – is doing now. He hopes he’s okay. Maybe this Deanne is there with him, and they’re trying to figure out how to fix things too. God, he could use some help right about now. He could use—

“Jesus!” Dean stumbles backwards and almost trips over the steps to Bobbie’s porch. “Cas, don’t _do_ that! Who just _appears_? How about a little warning next time?”

Castiel is just standing there, staring at Dean with that infuriatingly blank expression of his. “I apologize,” he says.

Dean sucks in a breath and tries to slow his pulse. “Dude, I gotta say, nearly giving me a heart attack aside, I’ve rarely been so happy to see… wait, you’re… you’re _you_.”

The angel looks up at him, bewildered. “Yes.”

Dean laughs a little nervously. He hates that. Since when has he been nervous around Cas? “Well, I gotta say, I’m relieved. Although I was kind of looking forward to some smoking hot angel chick called Castielle showing up and giving me grief.” Another nervous laugh.

Castiel _looks_ at him, and with a horrible, stomach-turning jolt, Dean realises exactly what he’s just said, and all that it implies. “So!” he says hurriedly. “Please tell me that you’re here to help me.”

The angel’s expression softens, just a little. Dean kind of hates that he can pick up on stuff like that now. Kind of. “Of course.”

“Great. Okay. So… mojo me out of here already. “

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why am I not surprised,” Dean mutters. He turns away, because it’s not easy to focus with Castiel watching. “Okay, so what the hell’s going on, then? And more to the point, how do I get back home?” He knows that Castiel is moving closer to him, and Dean feels himself grow tense.

A hand is laid gently on his shoulder. “Dean, you are the one who put yourself here.”

This makes him turn around. Castiel is so close to him that Dean blinks and takes a step back. “What the hell are you talking about? I didn’t do this. I didn’t do anything!”

“You have altered your reality. You wanted things to be different.”

“No! And that was just… I didn’t mean… damn it, Cas! Are you seriously trying to tell me that I have the power to create alternate universes? Because you know, I think I would’ve noticed. Wait… am _I_ God?”

“Of course not,” Castiel replies, a little testily. Dean’s been noticing that lately – how Cas has been getting more of an attitude. “Dean, you are the only one who has the power to put things back the way they should be. You are the only one who can get you home.”

“Okay, Glinda, lemme just grab my ruby slippers and we’ll get outta here.”

Castiel does that adorable head tilt think – no, not adorable, _not_ adorable, damnit! – and looks at Dean like he’s gone insane. Not for the first time.

“Oh, great. Just so I know, are there any pop culture references you’re gonna get? Because that’s, like, half my repertoire.”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “I enjoy Spongebob.”

Dean is flabbergasted. “Well, that’s… I… You and I are gonna have strong words about that one if we ever get back home. And, just remind me, how the hell am I supposed to do that again?”

The angel takes another step towards him, like he’s _completely_ forgotten about the whole personal space issue _again_ , and Dean realises that if he moved just a little bit closer they would be touching. And that’s a weird thing for him to realise. Cas is looking at him like he’s some previously undiscovered country. It makes Dean feel so strange when he does that, like there’s nowhere to hide, and he wants to move away, but he can’t this time. God, he can’t _breathe_ when Cas does this. And then Castiel lifts his hand and gently touches his fingers to Dean’s temple. They feel so icy cold against Dean’s hot head, and his breath catches in his chest.

“I told you. You have to get yourself home. No one else can do it for you. It has to be you.”

“But, Cas,” Dean whispers, “I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I. But it’s the only way.”

Dean starts to feel dizzy and closes his eyes. “I have to get out of here, Cas, I have to—” Dean feels as if the earth is shifting under his feet, and he staggers, grabbing hold of Castiel’s arm to steady himself. “Cas, I—” Everything is spinning, and Dean thinks he’s going to fall, but there are strong hands holding him up. “Cas… don’t leave me…”

When Dean opens his eyes again, he realises with a little twinge of regret that he’s alone once more. Castiel is gone, and Dean is… well, Dean doesn’t know where he is, but it sure as hell isn’t home.

...

The first thing Dean notices about the new world he’s turned up in is the smell. Kind of like raw fish that’s been out in the sun a little too long. Dean has fallen to his knees, but hurriedly jumps up as soon as he can trust his sense of balance. This place does not feel clean. He’s in some seedy-looking alleyway, apparently alone, although he can hear raucous laughter and weird music from somewhere nearby, so he has to be close to civilisation. Still, wherever he is, he isn’t home. Damn.

Dean brushes himself down, and that’s when he realises that he’s wearing a frigging tweed suit. What the actual fuck? There is no way in hell he would ever wear tweed, no matter what crazy parallel universe he wandered into. And there’s a hat on his head. A bowler hat. Well, that settles it: Cas was mistaken. Whatever is causing this, it sure as hell isn’t Dean’s doing. He would never do this to himself. Oh crap, this is something that Gabriel would do. But… if that was the case, then why hadn’t Castiel picked up on it like last time?

Dean is contemplating wandering over to whatever bar all the noise is coming from in an effort to figure out where the hell he is this time, when he hears brisk footsteps approaching him from behind. He instinctively reaches into the inside of his jacket, and is surprised to actually find a gun there. Except it’s not like any of his guns. It’s an old-fashioned revolver, looking a lot more like the Colt than anything else. Still, there’s no time to think about that now. Dean shrinks further into the shadows and takes aim. It could be no one, but Dean knows that he can’t be too careful. After all, it could be…

“Sam?”

Dean steps back into the light. “Oh, man, am I happy to see you. I—”

“Ah!” Sam says. “Excellent! I feared you had got lost in the fray. Come, Watson, we have to find Inspector Lestrade and inform him of the new developments.”

“Wait… what?” Dean has to jog to catch up with Sam, who is striding purposefully down the street. “Sammy, since when do you have a British accent? And what the hell are you wearing?”

Sam spins around to face Dean, straightening the lapels of his old-fashioned grey suit. “Watson, are you feeling quite yourself?”

“What? Watson? Why are you calling me Watson?”

Sam breathes in deeply through his nose. “I see that my nemesis has got to you as well. Never fear, Watson, never fear! We shall reconvene back at Baker Street, where I am sure you will make a full recovery. Come! The game is afoot!”

“Oh, crap,” Dean mutters, as Sam sets off again. There’s nothing for it – he’s just going to have to play along with this until he can figure out what in the hell is going on.

As he chases after his brother, he notices that there is definitely something very different about this world he’s ended up in. For one, the street lamps seemed to be lit by some sort of gaslight. And these buildings look like they were built over a century ago.

They come out onto a busier street, where Dean narrowly misses being run down by a horse and carriage, and Sam grabs him by the elbow. “Come along, my dear fellow, we’ll have you back to your old self in no time. Ah! There’s Lestrade now!”

Dean is practically dragged across the street, and is confronted by the vision of Bobby looking very flustered and sporting the most ridiculous handlebar moustache Dean’s ever seen. “Ah, Holmes!” he says as he catches sight of Sam. “Thank God!”

If Dean thought Sam sounded weird with a British accent, it’s nothing to how weird Bobby sounds.

“Holmes, we couldn’t catch up with him.”

“I am not surprised,” Sam replies with a dramatic toss of his head. “Professor Gordon Moriarty is not the type to be caught so easily. Come! Let us return to Baker Street!”

Dean is bundled into a cab, and they set of at a jolt. There’s a girl already sitting in the far corner, and she grabs Bobby’s arm. “Did you find her? Did you find my sister?”

“We remain hopeful,” he replies. “And now we have Samuel Holmes on the case.”

Sam offers the girl his hand. “At your service. This is my friend and associate Doctor Dean Watson.”

“Oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Dean says wearily. “ _I’m_ Watson?”

“Ah!” Sam says brightly. “His memory is returning!”

“No way. No friggin’ way. If anyone’s going to be Sherlock Holmes, it’s me.”

Sam and Bobby share a look. Dean can already tell that this is going to be a long night.

…

The carriage stops outside a town house, and the four of them ascend to a smart-looking flat. Sam immediately curls up in an armchair by the fire and lights up a pipe.

“Holmes, this is too deep, even for us,” Bobby says. “Moriarty knows that we’re on his tracks. There are no limits to what that man is capable of, you know that, Holmes! And now he’s got to poor Watson too.”

Dean lurks in the corner. Posh British Sam and Bobby are starting to freak him out.

“We need to think as he does!” Sam’s saying. “Come, Lestrade, with Watson transformed into a mindless idiot, I need your help more than ever. Deduce, Lestrade, deduce! What will Moriarty’s next move be?”

“Hey!” Dean interjects. “Who the hell you calling a mindless idiot?”

“My apologies my dear, _dear_ Watson,” Sam says earnestly. “That was thoughtless of me. But you must see that you have fallen foul of my nemesis’s mind control devices. Come, you will feel better for a lie down.” Sam springs up from his chair with alarming energy, and frog-marches Dean out of the room.

“Hey, I do not need to lie down! I just need you to stop being weird for long enough to tell me what the hell I’m doing here!”

“Hush, hush! Nothing to fear, my dear Watson. You just get some sleep, and the clouds of confusion will clear in no time.” Sam opens a door and shoves Dean into a small-ish bedroom. “Now, Mrs Hudson will bring you up some supper. You just attempt to recuperate.”

“But…”

Sam’s already gone.

“Crap.”

The bedsprings creak as Dean sits down, and he catches sight of his reflection in the mirror hanging above the small wooden dresser opposite him. “Oh, you have got to be _kidding_ me.”

There is a light knock at the door, and Dean sighs resignedly, assuming that it’s Sam coming to be obnoxious again. “Come in.”

The door opens, and Castiel steps inside. He’s giving Dean that disappointed look again, and Dean feels his insides shrink a little, even though he knows that he has _nothing_ to feel guilty about.

“Was that better?” Cas asks.

“What?”

“I knocked. You said you wanted warning.”

“Oh. Um… yeah. Thanks.”

“You didn’t go home.”

“Ya think? Cas, how the hell do I get out of here?”

“I told you—”

“No. No, no. I did not do this to myself. There’s no way, okay! Look at me, man! I have a fucking moustache! I look like Tom freakin’ Selleck! And that’s another thing – how come last time I was still me, but now I look like this?”

Castiel almost smiles. “This is your world, Dean. It’s whatever you want it to be.”

“And you think I want it to be this? Just how masochistic do you think I am, Cas?” Dean wishes his voice wasn’t coming out so high-pitched. He clears his throat. “Look, I think you’re wrong about this. This seems like the kind of thing that Gabriel would do for a laugh.”

“It isn’t Gabriel.” Castiel sits down next to Dean.

“How can you be sure? I think it’s a hell of a lot more likely that he’d do this than me somehow having the power to distort reality myself.” Their arms are touching. Dean feels like he should move over a bit, but then if he does, it’ll be obvious that he’s moving over because they’re touching. And why would that be a big deal?

“Trust me, it’s not Gabriel. Dean, you’re here because you wanted out. The burden of your life had become too much to bear, and so you’ve altered reality. You shouldn’t have let it get this far, Dean.” There’s concern in Castiel’s voice now, and Dean almost preferred it when he was annoyed. “You shouldn’t have to do this alone. You could have talked to someone.”

Dean laughs bitterly. “I’m not really the caring and sharing type. Besides, who would I talk to? I think Sammy’s got enough of his own problems.”

Castiel looks like he’s about to say something, but then thinks better of it.

“Just… let me know how to get back. If… if you’re right and I’ve done this to myself, then there has to be some way of getting things back to normal. I mean… what do I do?”

“I already told you. You have to want to go home.”

“Right, yeah, that’s specific. I think I can say with some confidence that I do _not_ want to stay here, so—”

Dean turns to look at the angel, which is not something he tends to do very often these days. At least, not directly. He’s taken to gazing at the top of Castiel’s head, or at his knees, or the lapels of his trench coat. Just not _at_ him. But now he does. Now he does look at Castiel, and Castiel’s looking back, and everything’s just a little bit too real.

“Dean…”

The world lurches again, and Dean feels himself falling backwards.

…

“Dean, why are you lying on the floor?”

Dean opens his eyes, grateful that the stomach-churning spinning has stopped. Becky is standing above him, looking at him with confusion.

“Dean! Do you need to go to the Hospital Wing?”

“What? No, no, I’m… okay.” Dean gets to his feet. He looks around him. He appears to be in some sort of… cathedral. They’re in this big, high-ceilinged chamber, and there’s late afternoon sunlight coming through the mullioned windows, making the air glow golden. “Becky, I… this may sound weird to you, but what are we doing here?”

Becky bites her lip. “I knew it. You’ve been hit by a Confundus Charm.”

“A… a what now?”

“Don’t worry, Dean, we’ll go get some dinner and it’ll soon wear off. It was probably Crowley.”

“Crowley? Wait, he’s here too? And… and what the hell are you wearing?” Dean’s only just noticed that Becky is wrapped up in a cloak, and she’s got a red and yellow scarf on. “Is it Halloween here or something?”

“No, Dean, Halloween’s months away.” Becky pats him on the arm reassuringly. “Don’t worry, it’ll all come back to you soon.”

He follows her through corridors lined with suits of armour and down a long sweeping staircase. “Well, I’ll be damned,” Dean says. “I’ve gone to Hogwarts.” He grins; maybe things are looking up. He’s never told anyone this, but Dean has long suspected that his Hogwarts letter got lost in the mail. This could be fun.

“There you go!” Becky says brightly. “I told you it’d come back to you.”

Dean checks out his uniform. “Hey, I’m a Gryffindor!”

“That’s right!”

“What about Sam?”

“Your brother’s in Ravenclaw, remember?”

“Ha. Of course he is. House of the geeks.”

He follows Becky into the Great Hall, and his inner twelve-year-old does a little dance of joy. “Dude, this is so cool! Look at the ceiling!”

Becky gives him a look. “Dean, play it cool, for Chrissake! Crowley and his gang are watching. You don’t want them to know that their little trick worked, do you?”

Dean looks over at the Slytherin table and sees Crowley sitting with Ruby, Gordon and Meg. They’re all watching him intently, looks of amusement on their faces.

“Come on.” Becky grabs his arm. “It’s your favourite tonight – beefsteak. With lemon meringue pie for dessert. We’ll deal with them when you’re feeling better; Gabe’s already got something in the pipeline.”

They sit down at the Gryffindor table, and Dean begins to eat his steak with gusto. He could get used to this particular universe.

“You know, Dean, inhaling your food isn’t healthy.”

Dean looks up to see Gabriel sitting across from him. “Ung Er?” he says.

Gabriel smiles ironically. “It’s not that I don’t enjoy getting covered with chewed mashed potato, but—”

Dean swallows. “You’re here?” he repeats.

“Have you been on the Firewhiskey already, Winchester?”

“It was Crowley,” Becky says. “He got Dean with a Confundus Charm. Hey, how’s that plan of yours coming along?”

“I think we can probably put it into action tonight. Hey, Dean, what do you think? Wanna break out the Invisibility Cloak one more time?”

“I have an Invisibility Cloak?” Dean says gleefully. “Oh, this just couldn’t get any more awesome.”

“Dean, you can’t be serious,” says a voice from behind him. He turns around. Okay, Castiel _definitely_ looks pissed off this time.

“Ha!” Dean says. “You’re in Hufflepuff.”

Cas scowls at him. “You _put_ me in Hufflepuff.”

“You’re wearing yellow socks! That’s… adorable, Cas.”

“Dean, if you think that—”

“Why don’t you relax for once, little brother?” Gabriel says. “Or are you still feeling sore because Ravenclaw kicked your ass at Quidditch on Sunday? Come on, unclench!”

“Dean, I need to speak with you. Now.”

Dean gets to his feet. “Cas, can we just—”

“No. Dean, it’s imperative that you—”

“Oh, come on, dude, don’t be such a buzz-kill! It’s good here! Come on, at least let’s hang out for a bit.”

Castiel takes a step towards him. “Dean, I came here to help you. None of this is real – it’s not where you belong. You are needed back in your own world.”

Dean experiences a spike of irritation. “Well… maybe you were right. Maybe I _did_ want to get away. C’mon, Cas, do you seriously think that we’re gonna win? Do you think I’m strong enough to hold out forever?” He turns to sit down again, but Castiel grabs his arm, and it’s like being trapped in a vice. Stoopid angel strength.

“Dean, I understand. But I can’t let you do this.”

“Oh, get a room already, you two,” Gabriel sighs.

Dean turns to glare at him, his face burning.

Gabriel smirks. “Did I hit a nerve?”

“Stay out of this,” Dean growls at him.

“Dean.” Castiel’s grip on his arm tightens, making Dean wince. “You know you can’t stay here.”

“Why not?” Dean asks him quietly. “Cas, it’s nice here. We could have fun. You do understand the concept of fun, don’t you?”

Castiel looks away.

“There’s pie here,” Dean continues. “And enchanted ceilings, and cloaks! You know I’ve always wanted to rock a cloak. And… and there’s magic!”

“Dean. This isn’t your world. You… you can’t do magic.”

“Sure I can!” Dean says with what he hopes is enough bravado to cover the fact that he hadn’t actually considered that until now. He reaches for the wand that’s in the belt-loop of his school robes. “It’s just a matter of waving it around and saying stuff.” Dean raises the wand and casts the first spell that comes into his head which is, unfortunately, “ _Avada Kadavara_!” A jet of lurid green light ricochets through the room, and an elderly man at the teachers’ table slumps lifelessly into his lemon meringue pie. “See,” Dean says in a small voice, “I can do magic.”

The hall erupts into chaos. Everyone is screaming and crying. “You just killed Albus Dumbledore, Dean!” Becky cries. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Cas?”

“Yes.”

“I think it’s time to go.”

…

Dean is starting to feel slightly hysterical. He thinks it been about a week now that he’s been cruising alternate universes, and he’s no closer to figuring out how to get home. Well, that’s not entirely true. He’s starting to think that Castiel might have been right. Maybe. The truth is, he had wanted out. Desperation had been building like a coil in his gut, and it was all he could do just to hold it together for Sam. There had been nothing he could do about it, either. There had been nowhere to run. It would make sense that he’d do something like this, if he could. Although he still wasn’t quite sure _how_ he was doing it exactly. And even if he was able to figure that much out, there was no way he could fathom why he would be transporting himself to places that were, well, downright insane.

Dean misses Cas. He suspects that the angel is still pissed off with him, and that’s making him feel a strange mixture of guilt and resentment. It’s not fair of Castiel to expect so much from him. After all, it’s not like Dean has the wisdom of centuries to fall back on, it’s not like he knows the secrets of the universe. How can Cas expect him to just fix this? But… but at the same time… Dean hates that Castiel is disappointed in him. It feels like Castiel’s always disappointed in him; Dean suspects that he just has one of those ‘you’ve really let me down this time’ kind of faces, but that doesn’t help. He hopes that the angel hasn’t given up on him completely, and he hates himself a little bit for that.

He knows that it shouldn’t matter this much. He knows he shouldn’t miss Castiel so much when he’s not around, and feel so damn uncomfortable when he is. And what terrifies Dean the most is the thought that Castiel might find out.

This just isn’t the way he’s supposed to be thinking; this isn’t who Dean is. He’s never… he hasn’t even… apart from that one time when he was twenty that he’s never told _anyone_ about. And this is different. He’s not even sure when it all started or, indeed, what exactly ‘it’ is. Castiel occupies a completely different category in Dean’s life to everyone else he’s ever met. Granted, no one else has ever dragged him out of hell and pieced him back together. No one else has been able to read Dean in that unsettling way that Cas can, not even Sam. And lately Dean has wondered what it would be like to touch Castiel. He wants to… to show his appreciation in some way. He’s not ignorant of what the angel has sacrificed for his sake, and he wants to show him… God, he doesn’t even know. These thoughts he’s been having lately… Dean has never been ashamed of thoughts like this before. It’s not even the fact that Cas is another guy, although that is a little unsettling. Dean likes to think he’s pretty open-minded about that kind of thing. It’s that it’s… almost sacrilegious. Yes, there had been Anna, but she’d still been human at the time, and that had just been… it had been a way of making them both feel better, nothing more. The way he feels about Castiel made him burn. And Cas would never understand it; it would only confuse him, or worse, insult him. It’s quite possibly the stupidest thing Dean has ever done, and that, he thinks, is saying something.

The world Dean’s in now… he doesn’t even know. He thinks that the whole point is that it’s a world of endless motel rooms. Because that’s all there is – just one after the other disappearing into the horizon. Occasionally Dean sees a shifty-looking businessman ushering a hooker into a room and locking the door hurriedly behind them, or a couple of kids with eyes that have seen too much sitting on the curb. It’s depressing as hell. Dean’s found a key in his pocket, room number 21,984. Thankfully, he was already outside 21,776 when he arrived here; good to know that his subconscious desire to punish himself had its limits. He doesn’t even care what he’s doing here anymore, he just wants to find a bed and sleep for about a month. He counts each room as he passes it, the numbers lulling him into a strange hypnotic state so that when he eventually does reach the right room he walks right past it and has to back-track.

He’s just about given up on seeing Cas again. At least, not until he’s managed to get back home. It’s been days since he last saw the angel, and Dean has made no progress since then. Still, he’s not in the least bit surprised to find Castiel waiting for him when he opens the door.

“Hey.”

“Dean.”

He doesn’t look mad any more, for which Dean is very grateful. He’s too tired to get into another fight that he has no chance of winning. He throws his jacket over the back of the desk chair, kicks his boots off, and slumps face-down onto the bed.

“You’re tired,” Castiel says, almost gently.

Dean makes an indistinguishable noise into his pillow. The bed smells like mothballs, but he’s had worse.

“Can I… get you something to eat?”

This catches Dean’s attention. Since when has Castiel taken human needs into consideration? A month or two ago, he couldn’t even grasp the concept of sleep. He turns his head and looks at Cas standing there by the window. He looks so damn awkward.

“I’m fine,” Dean replies. “You… you can sit, if you want.”

The angel sits down, almost cautiously, on the other bed. Funny that there’s two, Dean thinks. Like Sam’s supposed to show up. Dean wonders what Sam – the real Sam – is doing now. He hopes he’s okay.

“Where have you been, Cas?”

The angel looks up at him searchingly, elbows propped on his knees. He’s almost like a child when he does this, and yet it makes Dean feel slightly uncomfortable. Like Castiel is looking _into_ him.

“I thought you wanted to be left alone.”

If he hadn’t said it so dispassionately, Dean would have thought he was bitter. “No, that’s not what I… I just… can you try to understand that I’m never going to be able to live up to your expectations?” Dean flips onto his back and closes his eyes. He presses the heel of his palm to his forehead, just above his nose, where he can feel a tension headache building.

“I don’t expect anything.”

Dean laughs a little bitterly at this.

“I am here because I want to help you. But there’s only so much that I can do.”

They remain in silence for a while. Dean knows that Castiel is still watching him, even though his eyes are closed. He doesn’t mind. “Do you know what I’ve been doing for the past few days?” he says at length. Castiel doesn’t say anything, so Dean continues. “I think the downright weirdest was when I was turned into a cartoon fish, and had to live out the wacky adventures of Salmon and Sardine, ghost-busters of the sea. Oh, and then there was the world of musicals. I serenaded Bobby with a dazzling rendition of Deep Purple’s ‘Hush’, complete with perfectly choreographed dance moves. Did you know that I can do a double back-flip? I sure didn’t. Actually, I’m kind of glad you didn’t show up there, God knows what I would have sung to you. Oh, and my personal favourite was the world where everyone looked like my dad. John Winchester dressed as a waitress, complete with a platinum blonde wig, serving me coffee is not something I’m going to forget in a hurry. And… and every time I want out, I just get sent to another world. Cas, I… I don’t know how…”

The mattress shifts a little, and Dean opens his eyes to see that Castiel is now perched at the foot of his bed. Dean’s leg is almost touching him, and this makes his stomach do another pathetic flip-flop.

“You need to rest now.”

“But, Cas…”

“Dean, I understand. Get some rest.”

Dean swallows. He feels so fucking pathetic, so fucking _human_. Castiel will never know what it is to want. Not like this, anyway. And Dean just… he doesn’t even want much right now, only… only the thought of being alone again makes him feel hollow. He can’t believe how lame he’s being, and there’s no way in hell he’s going to ask Castiel to stay, but… but Dean has got this horrible desire to curl up with his head in the angel’s lap, and just be held. To just feel like… like he’s not quite so alone.

“I can stay, if you’d prefer.”

Dean flinches a little. He hopes he hasn’t been thinking too loudly. Castiel’s right – he’s exhausted. His defences are down. “You don’t have to. You probably have places to be.”

“Not really.”

Dean looks away. “Well… if you want to. I mean, if you really have nothing better to do, you’re more than welcome to hang out. If that’s what you want.”

So quiet that Dean almost misses it. “Yes.”

Dean draws in a ragged breath and closes his eyes again. Castiel doesn’t move, but Dean can feel the dip in the bed where he’s sitting, and he feels comforted. Just before sleep finally claims him, he remembers his mother’s words, all those years ago, in another life. “Angels are watching over you.” Dean realises with a strange, bittersweet pang that maybe, after all, she’d been right.  
…

When Dean wakes up, he isn’t surprised to find that Castiel’s gone, and he’s in yet another location. It’s probably for the best, Dean thinks. After all, he was a little too unguarded last night, all things considered. He’d been too tired to keep up any of his usual boundaries, and God knows what he would have said to Cas if he hadn’t fallen asleep when he had. Something along the lines of _I can’t stop thinking about your mouth and how much I want it on mine_. And that was just too horrible to contemplate.

He’s on a beach now. It’s nice – really nice, in fact. It’s all white sand and palm trees and turquoise sea stretching out into the distance. Dean’s never been on a beach like this before. Combine the gruelling schedule of a hunter and a morbid fear of flying, and you’re pretty much ruling out relaxing Mediterranean breaks. He can vaguely remember a family holiday to Florida when his mom was still expecting Sam, but that’s about it. Dad had taken him to see one of those fake mermaid shows. It had been pretty neat. Mermaids were hot.

Maybe Dean’s getting the hang of this whole alternate universe thing. Transporting himself to some exotic location is certainly better than his last few jaunts. He realises that he left his jacket and boots back in the motel room he fell asleep in, although it’s not like he needs them here. Maybe Cas will have picked them up for him.

Dean wonders what happens to all those universes when he’s no longer in them. Do they stop existing, or do they carry on? Have they always been there? Did Deanne ever get back home? More importantly, did Dean really kill Albus Dumbledore? What with all the metaphysical contemplation, Dean doesn’t notice when a shadow falls over him. What does catch his attention, however, is a very sharp object being jabbed against his spine.

Dean sighs wearily and turns around slowly. “Okay, what is it this ti—” Dean suspects that if he were a cartoon, this would be the moment when his eyes spring out of his head. Standing above him, wearing a very skimpy animal skin bikini is none other than Megan Fox. Not that she’s looking terribly pleased to see him. In fact, she’s now pointing a spear right at his throat.

“What are you doing here?” she asks angrily. “No men are allowed on this island! Get up!”

“Okay,” Dean says meekly. If he’s honest, he knows that if Megan Fox asked him to dress up as a chorus girl and perform a striptease to the theme tune of Hawaii Five-O, he’d probably do so without complaint.

Megan gives him a slight jab with the spear. “Move!”

“Where are we going, exactly?” Dean asks as they set out across the sand.

“I am taking you to the queen. She will know what to do with you.”

“Does… does she look like you?”

“Silence!”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Dean is led up the beach and into the undergrowth of what appears to be some kind of tropical jungle. Dean _likes_ this world. Even if he’s about to be killed, he reasons, death from being harpooned by Megan fucking Fox would be a pretty awesome way to go.

After trekking through the jungle in silence for about ten minutes, Dean desperately trying to figure out how he might put the moves on his captor without getting himself kebabed, they reach a large clearing. Dean thinks he might just pass out. It’s not just that the clearing is full of half-naked women. It’s that it’s full of every single woman that Dean’s ever fantasised about. There’s Michelle Pfeiffer circa-Catwoman, Adriana Lima, Giselle Bundchen, even Miss White, his ninth grade science teacher. And on a throne in the centre of the clearing, flanked by swimwear models waving palm leaves, is Angelina Jolie. Dean starts to laugh hysterically. This, he thinks, is exactly what he needed. It was pointless to spend all his time agonising over a socially awkward, completely unattainable angel. He needed a distraction; he needed to get his head around the fact that anything happening with Castiel would be completely ridiculous. And what better distraction than this?

…

Dean has been tied up in one of the huts, and is awaiting judgement. He’s feeling surprisingly nonchalant about the whole thing. He’s got pretty used to this alternate reality business now, and he’s fairly sure that he can make himself disappear if the situation gets too tricky. Besides, it’s quite nice here, all things considered. The air smells like mangoes and coconut, and Dean can still hear the ocean. Okay, so it’s the kind of fantasy that a twelve-year-old boy would have, and it’s all kinds of ridiculous, but no more so than any of the other worlds he’s been cruising lately. More importantly, it’s worlds away from Dean’s real life, and that’s just fine by him. He starts to wonder whether he couldn’t just do this forever. Granted, some of the universes had been scary or uncomfortable or just downright annoying, but they were still better than what he’d had before. Maybe Sam would be better off without him. Maybe without Dean holding him back, he’d think of a way to defeat Lucifer. Sam had always been the strong one; he’d always been the clever one. Perhaps without Dean holding him back he’d find a way to fix things…

Dean’s slightly maudlin train of thought is interrupted by several of the women entering the hut and surrounding him.

“Ladies?”

“The queen has made her decision,” Christina Aguilera tells him. “Your presence here is an outrage to the sacred laws of our community, and by rights you should be killed on the spot. However, we are not ignorant of the need to perpetuate our great and noble race. You are young and strong, and would provide genetically sound offspring.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean says, feeling a little alarmed now.

“We want you to donate your seed to us.”

“ _What_?”

“Sex, stupid!” Lindsay Lohan says with no small amount of exasperation. “We want to bang you, okay?”

“All of you?” Dean says in a weirdly high voice.

“Yes.”

Dean, to his slight embarrassment, finds himself hesitating. Even more embarrassing is that he’s hesitating because of Cas. He’s thinking about how Cas has always trusted him so completely, no matter how many times Dean screws up. He thinks about how incredibly naïve Cas is about the ways of the world, even though he knows about things Dean couldn’t even fathom. He thinks about how Cas just lets Dean fix his clothes and his hair, lets Dean boss him around even though he must think Dean is a idiot a lot of the time. He thinks about how much Castiel has sacrificed, and how often Dean’s let him down. But this is ridiculous. Castiel is… well, he’s not human, and there’s no way he’d understand. The whole _thing_ is ridiculous, and the sooner Dean gets over this stupid infatuation and starts thinking realistically, the better. And what better way to get back to reality than by having a love-in with all of his female fantasies?

Dean grins broadly. “Ladies, I’m at your service.”

…

Dean has been in the world of sexy Amazons for about a day now, and it’s exactly what he needed. This is what he _knows_. Okay, so he’s never done it with Eva Longoria before, but that’s not the point. It’s women, and that’s comfortable territory. Dean knows how to be with women; he can play the part to perfection. And there’s no one trying to make him be honest or asking him awkward questions that make him _think_. It’s perfect, really.

And now he’s sitting on the beach, surrounded by beautiful girls, being hand-fed grapes by Angelina. “Dean, you’re so virile,” she purrs in his ear. “You almost make me want to give up women altogether.”

“You guys are still having the lesbian orgy later though, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Awesome.”

Dean had been right – this really was the perfect distraction from everything that had been going on in his head concerning Castiel. Dean had almost stopped thinking about him, in fact. Unless you counted all the times Dean had thought about not thinking about him. And Dean chose _not_ to count that.

“Dean?”

Damn. Just when Dean’s congratulating himself on how little he’s thinking about Castiel, the bastard shows up, looking more confused than ever, and giving Dean that look that shoots guilt right to the pit of his stomach.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Cas says it so innocently, like he really has no idea what Dean could _possibly_ be doing half-naked on a beach with FHM’s Most Sexy list.

“Um…”

“Dean is sacrificing his body to the satisfaction of our rampant carnal desires,” Eva says. “And as the Goddess seems to be so liberal with depositing attractive men on our island, I think we should make the most of this new turn of events.” She gets to her feet and walks over to Castiel. “After all, there’s more than enough of us to go around.”

Cas has got that same rabbit-caught-in-headlights look on his face that he had the last time a scantily clad woman attempted to seduce him, and Dean feels his protective streak kick in. “Hey, lady!” he says. “Get your hands off my angel!”

He frees himself from the arms of Angelina, and pulls Eva away from Cas. Which is a situation he never thought he’d be in. “Look, ladies, I think we can reach some kind of—”

“Enough!” Castiel waves a hand, and everything freezes.

“Huh.” Dean grins. “So you can still do that, but you can’t—”

The look on Castiel’s face causes the words to freeze on Dean’s lips. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen the angel look so angry. And it’s not even angry like he used to be, all cold impartiality. This is anger that Dean can understand. The look in his eyes is raw and hurt and… and almost human. Dean takes a step away from him.

“What the _hell_ do you think you are doing, Dean?” There is something so quiet and controlled about Cas’s voice; Dean would have far preferred to be yelled at.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Dean replies, because he’s _damned_ if he’s going to let on that he’s intimidated. “I’m having a little fun for once in my life. What, are you going to ruin this for me too?”

Castiel looks briefly stung, but then his mouth hardens into a thin, angry line. “I thought better of you than this.”

“Yeah, well, I’ll add you to the long list of people I’ve disappointed, shall I? Jeez, Cas, what the fuck is the big deal? Yeah, so I’m supposed to be trying to find a way home, I _get_ it, but… but maybe I just want a break for once.”

Cas turns away from him. “I’ve been looking for you. Ever since the motel room, I’ve been looking for you because you told me that you needed my help. You said you needed me, and then I find you… here.”

“Cas…” Dean grabs the angel’s shoulder, pulling him around. He’s surprised by how little Castiel resists. “Cas, I’m sorry, okay, but… but maybe you were right. Maybe I don’t want to go home. Do you know what my life has been? Do you? One fucking thing after another, that’s what. And… and maybe I’m tired. Maybe there are times when I go to bed praying that I’ll just die in my fucking _sleep_ so that I don’t have to deal with tomorrow. And do you know how I deal with it? I have fun as and when I can, because when it comes down to it—”

“You’re avoiding the issue,” Castiel interrupts quietly.

Dean shuts up because, damn it, Castiel is right again. He _hates_ that. “You don’t know what—”

 

“Stop it.”

“Cas, I’m sorry, okay, but—”

“No, Dean. I have come here to help you. I know this isn’t easy, but… but I’m not your _bitch_. Perhaps you have forgotten what I am.”

Dean laughs at this. “Forgotten? Dude, it’s all I think about! If only I could forget what you fucking are!”

“Then perhaps you’d like to tell me why, after asking for my help, I eventually track you down here, fraternising with these… women?”

This is getting uncomfortable. Dean’s fairly certain that Castiel doesn’t realise this, given that Cas doesn’t tend to realise anything to do with real life, but they’re fighting like they’re in some kind of… And that’s not what Dean needs. He needs to get to a place where he sees Cas as just another slightly weird friend, because Cas is sure as hell going to leave when this is over, and Dean is feeling a little shaky right now as to whether he’ll be able to cope with that.

“Yes!” he shouts. “You know what, Cas, it went a lot further than fraternising! We fucked, okay! Lots of times! In… in lots of different ways! And it felt good, Cas, I had fun! Because… because sometimes I need to have a good time, okay? And sex is just that – it’s fun, and it’s… it’s _human_. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand that.”

Castiel looks like he’s been slapped. He stares at Dean for a moment, all wide-eyed bewilderment, and Dean can feel himself shrinking. Then Cas breathes in deeply through his nose, and Dean is suddenly very aware that he is in the presence of an Angel of the Lord. “You’re right,” Castiel says coldly. “I don’t understand. And I never will. Perhaps I didn’t make that clear enough the night you took me to that… brothel. You can neglect your duty all you want for the sake of… sensual gratification, but do not expect me to sympathise. It’s… beneath me.”

Now Dean feels like he’s the one who’s been slapped. “Fine,” he hears himself say. “I get it. I guess we have nothing left to say.”

He turns away because looking at Cas right now is taking all the air out of his lungs.

“Dean…”

But it’s too late. Because Dean’s walking away from him and into another world, and there’s no way he’s turning back this time.

…

 _Damn_ it’s cold here. Dean’s glad that he’s now fully dressed, because the air is so cold that it hurts. His breath coils up into the night, and briefly clouds his vision. He’s standing in a street, in what looks like the suburbs of a town. Nice area too, but he can’t really see that right now. Dean’s heart is still thudding dully from the fight, and there’s still so much impotent rage and bitterness coursing through him. He aims a sharp kick at the curb. It hurts his foot, but in a way that’s good. Physical pain is something Dean can deal with. He kicks the curb again, harder this time, almost enjoying the way the pain throbs up his leg.

Well, Cas has made things very clear this time. Dean forces himself to breathe evenly. He stares up at the sky, and the stars are viciously bright. Dean knows that this shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, because it’s not like this is anything he hadn’t thought a hundred times before. It was just… hearing it like that from Cas, the way he said that it was beneath him, so coldly. And what he’d really been saying, of course, was that _Dean_ was beneath him. And, hell, that isn’t something that Dean needed to hear. He has never felt his humanity so keenly. Of course he knew that Castiel was an angel, but sometimes it had felt like… like they were friends. And there had been times when Cas had looked at him or said something that had made Dean feel like he was special, maybe for the first time in his life. But clearly it had meant nothing.

It’s only now that Dean notices how quiet it is. Like, weirdly quiet. Even if it’s the middle of the night, there’s always some kind of noise in a town like this. There are cars in the distance, or racoons going down garbage bins, or night-owls watching infomercials on TV. This is just uncanny. None of the houses have their lights on either. “Hello?” Dean calls, quietly at first, then louder when he gets no response. He walks up the drive of one of the houses, and rings the bell. He hears the sound echoing in the hallway before silence devours it again. Nothing. Dean sets off down the street, because maybe it’s just here, maybe there will be some signs of life somewhere else. Although he’s starting to doubt it. He thinks that maybe he’s all alone here. And he thinks that that might not be such a terrible thing.

There’s a sort of alleyway between two of the houses leading into the next street, and Dean cuts through it, with no real purpose in mind. It might take him somewhere different, that’s all. It occurs to him that he can do anything, go anywhere, and there will be no one to stop him. It’s so still. So still that Dean can hear the silence ringing in his ears, and he clears his throat loudly, just in order to hear _something_. The only one. He’s never thought about what he would do if he was the only person in the world. He’s not entirely sure how long he can last like this, but then he’s always been a resourceful guy. If there isn’t another switch, if Dean is stuck in this universe forever, if he _never_ gets back home… he thinks he can live with that. No one to answer to, no one to protect… True, he’d be stuck with nothing but his own thoughts for company, and Dean’s thoughts are often far from pleasant, but at least this way he won’t be screwing up anyone else’s life. There is another sharp pang as he thinks of Castiel again, and he tries to push it away.

In all honesty, he can’t blame Cas for being mad at him. And Dean really shouldn’t have said some of those things, but it was so hard when you’re trying your damndest to forget about how you feel for someone, and then they keep turning up and being all oblivious. He shouldn’t have pushed things, though. It wasn’t really Cas’s fault that he could never understand what it was Dean wanted. He thinks about that time he’d tried to fix Cas up with that, well, hooker. He doesn’t know what he’d been thinking. Although… although perhaps it had just been because there were certain things he hadn’t been ready to admit to himself back then. After all, why else would he have tried to get Cas laid at the one place that he’d known that the angel _definitely_ wouldn’t like? He’d known all along that he wouldn’t go for that girl, that it was safe and nothing was actually going to happen. Damn it! Why did it have to be him, of all people? If Dean had to fall for someone, why couldn’t it be someone… normal? Or at least human?

Dean has had an idea. He’s going to keep on walking until he reaches a bar. And then he’s going to help himself to enough alcohol that he forgets Castiel’s name.

“Dean.”

“Damn it, _what_?”

Castiel is standing at the far end of the alley. “We weren’t done. Don’t think you can just walk away from me that easily.”

Dean balls his fists until his nails dig into his palms. “I don’t know. I think we’d both said more than enough.”

“Dean…”

“No! Look, I… I’m sorry about… about what I said, okay? It was out of line. Now can we just leave it? I can’t do this with you and more, Cas!”

Cas walks up to him, and Dean wants to get away, but he can’t seem to move his feet. The angel is looking at him so intently that it’s as if an iron band is tightening around Dean’s chest.

“I don’t want to talk about that. I only came here to remind you of your duty. Dean, I have been through too damn much with you to let you do this now. You _cannot_ stay here.”

Dean laughs bitterly. “You know what, Cas, screw you. For a minute back then I was feeling bad because I actually thought I’d hurt your feelings. But now I’ve remembered that _you don’t have any_.”

Before Dean’s even aware of what’s happening, Castiel has grabbed the front of his jacket and slammed him up against the wall of the alley. “You have no idea what I feel,” he says through his teeth. “How dare you pass your judgement on me?”

This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, and Dean considers that it’s kind of ridiculous that that’s all he can think about when Cas could kill him in an instant with just a flick of his wrist. “And why shouldn’t I?” he says, because it would almost be better if Cas _did_ hurt him. “Why shouldn’t I? It’s not like you ever stop judging me, is it? It’s not like anything I do is ever good enough, is it?”

“Good enough for who, exactly?”

“For… for _you_! I have tried so damn hard for you, and it’s never enough is it? You’re trying to convince me that I’m wrong, and that you can feel what I feel, but that’s bull. You don’t feel anything at all. I was right – you _are_ dead.”

The angel’s grip on him tightens, and Dean has to fight for breath. “You have no idea,” Cas says, his voice dangerously quiet. “If you knew what I was capable of feeling…”

“What are you going to do, Cas?” Dean chokes. “Kill me?”

For a moment, Dean thinks that the angel might just do that. There’s an almost wild look in Castiel’s eyes that Dean’s never seen before, and he’s starting to think that maybe this time he’s gone too far.

But instead Cas does something that Dean definitely isn’t expecting. Castiel, angel of the Lord, heaven’s rebellious warrior, pins Dean up against the wall and kisses him.

Dean thinks for a moment that he’s going to pass out. This cannot be happening. There is no way that Castiel can actually be kissing him; he has to be dreaming. But… he’s not. Okay, so it’s kind of clumsy. It’s hard and a little painful and their noses are smooshed together and, well, Cas has clearly not done this before, but it’s happening nonetheless. It’s _real_.

Cas pulls away just as abruptly, although he doesn’t loosen his grip on Dean’s jacket. Dean can see a look of dawning realisation in the angel’s eyes, and he knows that if he doesn’t do something very quickly, Cas is going to freak out and disappear on him. And Dean’s damned if he’s going to let that happen now.

Dean reaches a hand up to clasp the back of Castiel’s head and, before the angel can do anything to stop him, he pulls him back into the kiss. He feels Castiel grow tense, but Dean’s not going to let him go now; he knows that if Cas really wanted out, it would be only too easy for him to free himself. Dean leads the kiss this time, and does so gently, thinking that he’d been right about how soft Castiel’s lips would be. And then there’s the delicious moment when he feels Cas give into it, become pliable, and… and Dean still can’t quite believe that this is happening, but it is, and somehow it’s too much and not nearly enough all at once.

...

What’s so weird about this, Dean thinks, is how incredibly right it feels. He’d always imagined that if, by some miracle, something did end up happening with Cas it would be kind of awkward at first, but… but this is what he was born to do.

Dean loves the way Castiel grabs the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer. He loves the little noises Cas makes, almost like he’s surprised, like he didn’t know it was possible to feel like this. Dean’s hands make their way under the angel’s trenchcoat, and then under his jacket. Cas wears far too many clothes in Dean’s opinion. Dean’s never been kissed like this before. Everything else had been so… materialistic. It’s the first time someone has kissed _him_ , and not just his body. It makes Dean feel weak at the knees. God, he’d do _anything_ for Cas right now. He wants to take him right then and there in the alley, because damn it, he just can’t get close enough right now. But he won’t. Because somewhere in the fog of lust that’s clouding his mind is the knowledge that Castiel has never done this before, and Dean isn’t going to let his first time happen next to a garbage can.

“Come on,” Dean says hoarsely, pulling away reluctantly.

“What?” Cas says, dazed.

“Come on.” Dean grabs hold of his hand and pulls him along, almost roughly, back in the direction of the houses. Castiel follows without complaint. Their footsteps echo loudly, and Dean is sure that he can hear his own heartbeat. Cas is holding onto his hand tightly, and it’s weird how right that feels as well, because sex is one thing but Dean never saw himself holding hands with another dude. Or anyone, for that matter.

Dean leads the way to a nice-looking place with a blue front door, which he unceremoniously kicks in. He pulls Cas inside and leads him up the staircase as if for all the world he knows exactly where he’s going. And hey, this is his world, so perhaps he does. It’s dark, but Dean can tell that the house is nice. He hopes that it’s good enough. He leads the way to the front of the house where he knows the master bedroom would be, and then turns to face Castiel for the first time since the alley; he’s still looking slightly dazed, and he’s staring at the bed like he can’t see anything else.

“Hey.” Dean squeezes Cas’s hand gently, and the angel blinks and looks at him questioningly. “You okay?”

“Yes, I… This is just… unexpected.”

“I know. But… it is what you want, isn’t it?”

Castiel thinks for a moment. “Yes. It’s what I’ve wanted for a long time; I just didn’t know it.”

Dean is still holding the angel’s hand, and he gently pulls him close again. Castiel is looking at him so intently, and he leans in slowly so that Dean has to close his eyes because it’s just too overwhelming. He feels Castiel’s breath ghost over the skin on his neck, and he shivers with desire.

“Dean?”

“…Yeah?”

“You can do whatever you want to me.”

Dean can feel the blood pumping through his veins now; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so aware of being alive before. He kisses Cas again, on his throat, his eyes, his lips, slipping out of his own jacket. Castiel tries to do the same, but he gets caught up in his sleeves, and Dean has to help him untie himself.

“You know, maybe you should let me do that,” Dean says.

Castiel nods, and Dean can tell that he’s nervous.

“Hey.” Dean carefully undoes the angel’s tie and slips it off. “It’s okay. I know what I’m doing.” That’s not strictly true, but Dean knows that confidence counts for a lot in situations like this.

Castiel’s hands find their way underneath Dean’s shirt, and cold fingers trace patterns on his stomach, making him shiver. “Do you want me to lie down?” He asks unsteadily.

“Sit.” Dean gently pushes him over to the bed and makes him sit down, before kneeling at his feet to untie his shoes. Castiel softly touches his cheek as he does this, and Dean smiles and turns his head slightly to kiss the angel’s palm. He loves that Cas actually makes him feel special. And not just because he’s supposed to be Michael’s vessel, but because of who he is in himself. Dean doesn’t think anyone’s done that before. “You okay?” Dean asks, looking up.

Cas swallows. “Yes. I’m just… This isn’t something I ever thought…”

“I know. It’s okay.” Dean puts a hand on his chest, pushing him back onto the bed. He realises, perhaps for the first time, what a huge deal this is. It’s one thing to lose your virginity, it’s quite another to do so after waiting for millions of years. Dean had been pretty nervous after waiting just fifteen. He doesn’t often think about how long Cas has been around, just because it’s too mind-boggling. The creature lying in Dean’s arms existed when the earth was born, he saw Lucifer fall, he’s watched men and women be born, fight, love, grieve and die time and time again. And now he’s here, looking up at Dean like a frightened child.

“You know, we don’t have to do this,” Dean says, even though he thinks he might die if they don’t.

“No!” Castiel replied quickly, grabbing hold of Dean’s arm. “No, don’t stop.”

When they kiss again, it’s with the same urgency that they had before. Castiel’s fingers are fumbling with the buttons on Dean’s shirt; his eyes are wide and dark, and there’s desperation in the way his fingers dig into the flesh on Dean’s arms. He runs his hands over the skin of Dean’s back, and Dean knows that he’s learning to touch, learning to feel like humans can, and it’s so amazing that Dean’s allowed to be a part of that that it almost makes him want to cry.

Castiel’s mouth is so hot and wet, and Dean doesn’t miss the quiet noises of pleasure he makes as Dean’s hands travel over his chest and stomach and lower, lower, until he sucks his breath in sharply and his fingers tighten around Dean’s arm reflexively. Dean notices the look of surprise on the angel’s face as his body starts to respond to Dean’s touch, and he laughs breathlessly. “It’s okay; you know that’s supposed to happen, right?”

“I… I know. It just feels strange.”

“You mean you’ve never even…? Wow. I really am going to have to show you everything, aren’t I? Don’t worry, okay? Just… just don’t think. This isn’t about thinking.”

“No thinking,” Cas whispers.

And that’s when something clicks between them. It’s like everything that’s been building between them over the past year and a half just takes over, and now Dean couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. He’s feeling slightly desperate himself now, like it won’t be possible to get close enough, like he wants to fall into Castiel so there’s nothing of him left, so that Castiel can take everything that’s broken and dirty and painful in him and make it clean again. Because he thinks that Cas is the only one who can save him.

The rest of their clothes are just things that are in the way now. Dean is going crazy from not being able to touch all of Cas at once; his desire has reached such a point that it’s almost painful.

He loves what this is doing to Cas. It’s incredible that Dean can do this, that he can make Castiel come undone like this. That he can take this strange being who’s so innocent and reserved and poised, and make him tremble and moan with desire. Dean doesn’t think he’s ever done anything so honest as this before and, strange as it sounds, so pure.

Dean fumbles for the bedside table where he finds condoms and a bottle of oil. This is _definitely_ his favourite world. He moves in to kiss Castiel hard on the mouth, biting his lips possessively, loving how Cas arches his back and whimpers softly as Dean slowly pushes a finger inside him. He kisses the length of Castiel’s neck, and he can feel how the angel’s pulse is quickening. It’s so easy to forget that Cas isn’t human. Damn, he tastes good, and his body feels so good, and Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been this turned on before. He swirls his tongue wetly on the angel’s hot skin, sucking it into his mouth, loving the thought that Castiel would let Dean brand him like that. Cas pulls him even closer, whispering his name, and Dean can hear the urgency in his voice. And hell, Dean _knows_ , because he needs it too.

When Dean finally pushes inside Castiel it takes his breath away. He has to stay still for a moment because his head feels kind of like it’s going to explode. Cas’s nails are digging into Dean’s back so hard that it hurts; he wraps his legs around Dean’s waist and pulls him even closer. He looks so perfect like this, his head thrown back, his lips slightly parted, and Dean still can’t believe that he’s allowed to do this, and that Cas has trusted him like this with his body. For the first time Dean is acutely aware of being inside another person. Castiel looks up at him, and there’s so much trust and affection in his eyes that it makes Dean feel weak.

They start to move together, and Dean can’t even tell where he ends and Castiel begins. Everything is tight liquid heat, and it’s almost too much. Cas clutches at the bed sheets, and Dean has to close his eyes because just _looking_ at him makes him want to come. He thrusts slow and hard, loving how Cas moans every time Dean pushes into him, and Dean’s whispering all these ridiculously romantic things that he really hopes Cas doesn’t remind him of later, and he could die right now, like this, and it would be perfect.

Dean props himself up slightly and reaches down between their bodies to touch his lover where he’s hard and aching and full of need. Castiel cries out wildly and throws his head back against the pillow again, biting his lip hard as Dean caresses him expertly. It feels like everything’s shaking, falling apart around them, and all that’s left is the two of them and the heat that’s building between them that’s threatening to consume Dean alive, and he might just let it.

Just as Dean’s starting to think that he might _really_ melt into Castiel, he feels the angel grow tense from head to toe. “Dean…” he whispers, sounding almost afraid.

“It’s okay,” Dean says hoarsely. “It’s… just go with it. Just let it happen.”

Their bodies are slick with sweat. Dean feels almost afraid, and he grabs hold of Castiel’s hand so tightly. His ears are ringing, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to recover from this if it doesn’t kill him. He can feel every fluctuation of Cas’s body, and it’s driving him out of his mind. Cas grabs his hand right back, pulls him close, crying out wildly and arching against him, his heels digging into the top of Dean’s thighs as Dean makes him come for the first time. And that was it.

When it hits, Dean is able to feel his orgasm through his entire body. He drives himself as deeply as possible into his lover, biting into his shoulder to muffle his hoarse cries, hardly able to endure the sensations but not wanting them to end.

Cas doesn’t let him go afterwards. He holds onto Dean tightly like he might disappear if he doesn’t, and Dean dozes in his arms, his head resting on Castiel’s shoulder, kind of feeling like he wants to cry but not really having the energy. His body is tingling. When he feels like he can move again, he slowly pulls away from Cas, prompting a soft noise of protest from the angel.

“It’s okay,” Dean whispers. “I’m not going anywhere.” He pulls the bed sheets over them and gathers Castiel up in his arms. He feels drained, and possibly better than he’s ever felt in his life. “Stay here with me,” he breathes. “Don’t leave me, Cas.”

He would have thought that Castiel was asleep if he hadn’t known that, well, Cas never did that. Eventually, he feels the angel nod slowly, and now he can relax. Dean slowly runs a hand down the side of his lover’s body, so much naked flesh that’s now his and his alone to touch, and surrenders himself to sleep.

…

Dean is dreaming about Hell again. It happens more often than he’d care to admit, and certainly more often than he’s told Sam. It’s dark and there are unspeakable things crawling everywhere around him. Dean is waiting, and he knows what he’s waiting for this time, and it makes him feel sick with loathing and terror. He can’t move. His flesh is nailed down, and there’s something creeping around him, and Dean knows that if it touches him he’ll go insane with horror. He can’t remember what daylight looks like. He can barely remember how to talk.

He’s waiting for Alistair, and he knows what he’s going to do to him when he turns up. He knows that the waiting is part of it. Dean’s crying, even though he learned a long time ago that there’s no point. He knows that what Alistair is going to do to him will rip him apart again.

And then there’s a light. Dean is unused to light, and it scares him because he thinks that it’s something else that Hell has devised to torment him. And perhaps he deserves it. It’s getting brighter and brighter, and Dean wants to close his eyes because whatever it is that’s coming, he doesn’t think he wants to see it. But then he notices something. The things in the darkness are… screaming. They’re struggling to escape. They’re terrified. What could terrify the beasts of hell? Dean can’t look away now. It’s getting brighter and brighter, and now Dean can make out a figure in the midst of the light. And it’s… _beautiful_. Dean had forgotten that word. The creature alights in from of him, and Dean can’t tell whether it’s male or female, but it’s the loveliest thing he’s ever seen, and he feels something that he’s long forgotten. He feels hope. And then the creature of light speaks his name. _Dean_.

There is a terrible cry of rage, and Dean turns his head to see Alistair, illuminated by the creature’s luminescence, his eyes wild with horror and rage. **You cannot be here!** He screams. **You** —

But he doesn’t get any further because the creature of light shoots some kind of… white fire at him, and he falls back, howling.

 _Come_ , the creature says, and he lays a hand on Dean’s arm. Dean knows he should be afraid, but he’s had enough of fear. He’s pulled upwards, torn away from his bonds, no longer caring that it hurts or that he doesn’t know what’s happening. They’re moving upwards so quickly that Dean is afraid that that alone is going to make him fall apart, but the creature won’t let go of him. He knows this. And then something strange happens: the creature of light pulls him close, and Dean is suddenly free from all pain. He’d forgotten what it was like. He knows that the light should hurt him but it doesn’t, and the longer he looks into it, the more pieces of himself start to come back. He remembers teaching Sam to shoot his first gun, and the taste of cold beer on a hot day, and the feeling he got in his stomach when he was driving so fast it felt like he was flying. He remembers Mom’s perfume and the time Dad took them to see Niagra Falls for a treat, and Bobby’s coffee, and Metallica, and hot showers and putting Nair in Sam’s shampoo and kissing and magicfingersandcheeseburgersandfixingenginesandsunsets…

 _Dean_ , the creature says again.

And Suddenly Dean knows who it is. He can see him now. _Castiel_.

…

When Dean wakes up, the first thing he notices is how cold the room is. He opens his eyes and sees Castiel sitting next to him, his legs curled up, chin resting on his knees.

“Hey,” Dean says. “You okay, Cas?”

Castiel looks down at Dean and gives him one of those rare genuine smiles. “Yes. I was just thinking. And watching you sleep.”

That will only ever not be creepy when Cas says it.

“What the hell is up with this house?” Dean says. “It’s free—” He doesn’t finish because now he’s sat up too he knows exactly why it’s so cold. All the bedroom windows are smashed. And so is the mirror above the dresser. And the perfume bottles. And the picture frames on the wall. “What the fuck? It… it wasn’t like this last night, was it?”

“No.”

“What the hell happened?”

Castiel looks momentarily abashed. “I… lost control.”

Dean stares at him. “You mean that _you_ … when we were… Wow. You know, I didn’t even notice. Well, I’ll tell you one thing, Cas: we are _definitely_ not doing it in my car next time.”

The angel looks at him curiously. “Next time?”

Dean feels his insides shrivel up a bit. This had never occurred to him, that Cas had seen this as a one-time deal. His mind flickers back to all the girls who had given him their numbers after they’d spent the night together, and how Dean had promised to call. He supposes that this is karma.

“Dean, is this what you want?”

“I… I mean… if you only wanted to… I mean, I’m not exactly known for… so if you just…”

“Dean.”

“Yes. Yes, this is what I want. With you.”

Castiel smiles slowly. “I hoped you did.”

“You didn’t know?”

“I wanted you to say it.”

“Dick.”

Dean leans in, almost shyly, and Cas is watching him, still with that soft smile, waiting.

“Cas, you’re freezing,” Dean whispers against his lips.

“I… hadn’t really noticed.”

“C’mere.” Dean pulls Cas back down and wraps them both up in the duvet. This is so intimate, the two of them lying there, legs tangled together, so unselfconscious of the fact that they’re both naked. Like it’s not something new for them, like it’s how they should have been all along.

“What were you thinking about?” Dean asks.

Cas is quiet for a moment. “I still don’t understand what’s happened to me. I… Dean, for thousands upon thousands of years everything was so clear. Black and white. I watched as the world was made, and it was Good, because my father had made it. I watched as Lucifer fell, and that was Bad, because he was opposing God and that was just… unimaginable to me. I couldn’t think of a greater crime. I watched it all, and I felt nothing. It never occurred to me that I was lonely. I didn’t even know what loneliness was until…”

“What?”

“Until you showed me what it isn’t. Dean, you were just supposed to be another mission. I pulled you from Hell because it was for the greater good, and I never thought…” He laughs softly. “I suppose I was arrogant. I didn’t think I had anything left to learn. But then you happened, and you were the single most frustrating creature I had ever encountered, and you didn’t understand what I wanted from you, and you fought everything, even though you were stupid to fight, because you cared so terribly much. I couldn’t imagine that kind of strength, and… Dean, do you know how terrifying it is to begin to question the things you have blindly believed in since the beginning of time? I was so angry with you for doing that to me, and part of me wished that I could go back, but… but you drew me in. And I started to care too. I started to _feel_. It scared me. I wasn’t supposed to question things; that was a human curse. Angels were supposed to be above it. And then, after this body was no longer shared with another, I… I started to _want_ things. For myself. I started to want you. I didn’t understand how I wanted you at first, but… but I couldn’t leave you. I knew I would follow you until the end, whatever that might be. I started to feel like… Dean, do you remember in _Spongebob Squarepants_ where Patrick says that when Spongebob isn’t around, all he does is wait for him to come back? Well, that’s how it got for me. Time was… divided into time spent with you and time spent alone, and all I could think when I was alone was how much I was looking forward to the next time I could be with you. Dean, I’d held your soul in my hands, I’d pieced you back together, and you weren’t perfect, but that’s exactly why I… why I… And you couldn’t see how beautiful you were. You couldn’t understand how you could never let me down. Not really. As long as you continued to believe. As long as you didn’t end up as I once was. Your soul was… it was more precious to me than anything else. And it hurt me that you had been so ready to throw it away.”

“My soul.” Dean pulls the angel close. He’s never heard Cas say so much at once.

“Yes. And… and your physical manifestation is visually pleasing also.”

“Mm. I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean laughs. He feels younger than he has in years. “Don’t worry about it. I find your physical manifestation visually pleasing too.” He runs his hand over the skin on Castiel’s back. Touching someone has never been this addictive before.

“What happened last night…”

“Yeah?”

“That was something else I’d never understood. I saw how humans would crave physical union with each other. I saw how they would put themselves in danger, hurt themselves, hurt others, even kill. And all for a brief moment of pleasure. It seemed so… trivial.”

“I hope you have a point.”

“Dean… last night was… I understand it now. I understand why people would risk all they have for a moment like that. What you showed me was… I didn’t know it was possible to feel like that. I didn’t know this body could _do_ that. It was… Dean?”

“Yeah.”

“Show me again.”

This time, they make the whole bed fall apart.

…

Getting out of bed had been difficult. The only reason that Dean had made himself do it was the fact that he hadn’t eaten since the island of sexy Amazons, and he was ravenous. There were always shops of some kind near to areas like this, and Dean figured that he’d go find somewhere that sold food and have himself a little raid.

He’s still surprised by how easy it is to walk along holding hands with Castiel. Dean’s never been a terribly tactile person, but there’s something about Cas that makes him feel protective and in need of comfort all at the same time. It’s weird. Perhaps it’s because the angel always looks so lost. Perhaps it’s because he’s the only one who’s ever been able to save Dean.

The sun is taking the edge off the chill in the air, and they walk slowly in silence. Dean still can’t get over what happened. It’s changed everything forever, and that should be scary, but somehow he feels stronger now that he ever has. It’s a big deal, though. Having this much to lose.

“I dreamt about you last night,” Dean says eventually, his voice sounding strange in the absolute stillness. He doesn’t look, but he knows Cas is watching him. “I dreamt about what happened when you came to Hell for me. I never remembered that bit before.” No answer. “You… I always wanted to know what you _actually_ look like. It was nice to find out without the whole flaming eyeball thing. I think that would’ve put a strain on our relationship. You… you were…” Dean can’t find any words that don’t sound stupid, so he stops trying. He sighs awkwardly. “Do… do you know the things that happened to me there? I don’t just mean what I did. Do you know what Alistair—”

Castiel’s hand tightens reflexively around his, and it hurts. He looks at the angel for the first time, and sees that he’s got that dark look in his eyes that always makes Dean feel a little bit scared of him in spite of himself. “I should have eviscerated him then and there while I had the chance,” he says.

“Don’t be… look, that was then, okay? I guess I’m just trying to say… thank you. I don’t know if I ever said it properly before, but…”

Cas looks at him, and neither of them needs to say anything else.

…

After wandering through the deserted streets for about half-an-hour, Dean hits jackpot. And it comes in the form of a store called ‘Miss Millie’s Pie Shop’. It’s official: he _loves_ this world.

“You know,” Dean says as he helps himself to what looks like a particularly delicious cherry pie. “You know, we could just stay here. You and me.”

He says it lightly enough, but Cas immediately knows that he’s not joking. “Dean…”

“Dude, this is delicious. Try some.”

“Dean, you know we can’t.”

“Oh, come on, it’d be great.” Dean says, still trying to keep things light. “I mean… this is sweet. We’ve got the whole place to ourselves. It would be like… I mean, we could do whatever we wanted. And it wouldn’t matter anymore what we are, that you’re an angel and I’m a hunter who’s been… chosen or whatever. We could just be _us_.”

Castiel sighs. “Dean, you know we can’t. You are needed back in your world. Sam needs you.”

Dean feels a spasm of guilt when he thinks of Sam. He glances up at Cas and can’t suppress a smile. “Dude, you have cherry sauce on your face. Come here.” Dean leans in and kisses it away. “See?” he says quietly. “It could be like this. All the time.”

The angel looks at him sadly. “Dean, don’t make me do this. Don’t make me be the one who always has to spoil things. There is nothing I wouldn’t give to keep you safe and happy, and to lift this burden from your shoulders. But staying here is not the answer. And you know it.”

“Yeah,” Dean replies heavily. “Yeah, I know. It’s a nice dream, though.”

“Yes.”

“Cas? Will you… If we go back, will you be with me? Will you stay?”

“Until the end. I told you.”

“And Sam really needs me? And… and Bobby?”

“Yes. Dean, didn’t you see what happened to them when you were in Hell? You are what holds them together. They cannot win this fight on their own.”

Dean is about to say that he wishes he could have a normal life, but he checks himself. Normal life would be safe, but wouldn’t involve the people he’s come to love over the years, and it certainly wouldn’t involve Castiel. However painful it is, however many nightmares he has to live through, this life is his, and there are things in it that he couldn’t bear to lose.

“We have to go home, don’t we?”

“It’s time.”

“Don’t you wish—”

“You know I do.”

“Yeah, me too.” Dean gets to his feet, and pulls Cas up with him. “It won’t be easy.”

“It never is. But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t fight for it.” Castiel smiles. “You taught me that.”

“So I just…”

“You just have to want it.”

“And you’ll be with me?”

“I told you.”

Dean can feel some of his old fight returning, like he’s a soldier who’s been too long from the field. He kisses Castiel again, gently, chastely almost. And the air is filled with the sound of beating wings.

…

“Dean? Dean!”

“Cas?”

“Dean, can you hear me?”

“…Sammy?”

Dean opens his eyes to see Sam leaning over him. “Dude, is it really you?”

“What? Of course it is!” Sam’s worried – his face is doing that weird twitchy thing.

Dean sits up; he kind of feels like he’s been hit by a truck. He sees that they’re at Bobby’s. “Where’s Cas?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him in days. Dude, are you feeling okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah. I’m fine, Sammy. Look, I’m sorry I went away, okay? I don’t know how I did it exactly, but… I think I must have got caught up in some kind of astral glitch or something.” This is definitely his world. This is what Dean knows.

“Away? Dean, what are you talking about? You’ve been here the whole time.”

Dean looks at him, bewildered.”What?”

“You’ve been asleep, Dean! You… you fell asleep the night after the funeral, and I couldn’t wake you up. I got you to Bobby’s and we’ve been trying to wake you up ever since. It’s been two days.”

“Only two days?”

“Yeah. We figured it was the angels or something, and they’d put you into some kind of… coma.”

“Does… Does Cas know about this?” Dean is starting to feel a pit in his stomach.

“No, I told you. I haven’t seen him in days. You know, you could always call him.” Sam’s got that annoyingly casual tone to his voice that he always puts on when he’s trying to _suggest_ something, but Dean really doesn’t need it now.

It hadn’t been real. None of it had been real. He’d been lying here asleep the whole time, and it had just been some cruel trick. He and Cas had never… it had just been him wanting to…

Dean feels the old walls go up around his heart. He had been so stupid. It had been idiotic to hope for something like this. He’s not going to allow himself to feel it, though. If he gives into the pain and the betrayal he won’t be good for anything. And Cas can never, ever find out. The angel never knew anything about this, and he’s never going to. Dean will make himself forget. He’s so ashamed that he even allowed himself to believe in the first place.

“Dude… are you okay?” Sam is looking at him searchingly. “What did you… did you dream about something?”

“Yeah. I dreamt that I was in Vegas and I’d got a job as an Elvis impersonator. You were there too. You were Marilyn.” Dean laughs, but it sounds strange. “I’m gonna have a shower; I smell like last week.” Dean gets to his feet a little unsteadily. He’s not going to look at his brother right now, because he knows that Sam will be able to see the pain in his eyes. He needs to stop this. He needs to just stop _feeling_ , but it’s so hard because he can still remember the taste of Castiel’s skin. He’ll just have to forget. He’ll just have to put this into the little box in his head along with all the other things that are just too damn painful. He’s back home now. And he has work to do.

....

Dean is doing what, in hindsight, he should have done straight after Hell consumed his brother. He’s going to Bobby’s. He’s been such a fucking idiot.

Things are over with Lisa. They never should have begun, really. Dean’s just grateful that it finished on a fairly amicable note, and she’s said that he can stay in touch with Ben. Dean feels guilty enough about Ben as it is.

Dean had been a complete moron. He’d thought, somehow, that if he tried hard enough he’d be able to have a normal life, he’d be able to forget who he was and all that he’d seen, and he’d be able to forget about the hole in his heart. It hadn’t worked out, big surprise. He’d been able to play-act for a while, but sooner or later the cracks had begun to show. He started drinking more. He couldn’t get a job. He started to fight with Lisa, which mostly consisted of him yelling about how much he honestly, really, truly did want this life with her. Because she and Ben were the family he’d always thought that he should have. It was what Mom would have wanted for him. He’d really been trying to convince himself.

The final straw had come when Lisa got home from a yoga class to find that Dean had drunk half a bottle of scotch and was tearfully singing along to Meat Loaf’s ‘Love You Out Loud’. After he’d slept it off, Lisa had told him that they needed to talk.

“Who the hell are we trying to kid, Dean? You and I both know this isn’t going to work. This… this isn’t who you are.”

Dean hadn’t been able to argue this time. “I’m sorry.”

“I know you are.”

“I just… I just wanted a family. And I thought that it was you, but…”

“I think you might already have a family,” she’d said. “Just… just not the one you thought you were looking for.”

The worst part was, she would have been right. Only now Dean’s family has been torn apart. Bobby is all he has left, and he’s sure as hell not going to lose him too. He’s playing music loud in the car, singing along so that he doesn’t have to think, so that he doesn’t have to remember. Yeah, he’d promised Sam that he’d try to be have a normal, happy life, but… but Dean isn’t normal. And it hadn’t made him happy. And there’s no way he’s going to leave Sam to suffer the same torments that he’d gone through. Okay, so he won’t make a deal this time – that’s one Winchester family trait which doesn’t need to be revisited – but there has to be another way. He’ll… he’ll get in touch with Crowley. He could get in touch with…

But no, he can’t do that. Cas has gone home now, and there’s no way that Dean’s going to bother him. It’s too painful to think about Castiel. He’s fairly sure that the angel never knew about the dream Dean had had. Dean had worked so hard to block the thoughts from his mind when they were together, tried to be relaxed like he used to be. After all, it hadn’t been the _real_ Castiel he’d been with. It had been a figment of his imagination, and there was no point trying to project that onto real life. Castiel hadn’t _actually_ said those things to him. Still, losing him had been… unbearable. And no matter how hard Dean tried, there was no way he could forget. He still keeps looking over to the passenger seat, thinking that maybe Cas will suddenly appear there like he used to. But he’s gone. Wherever he is now, wherever in the wide stretches of the universe, he’s out of Dean’s reach.

He can still remember the last time he saw the angel. He hadn’t even been able to look at him because he had known that if he had he wouldn’t be able to stop himself breaking down. He had to keep up that wall. He had to pretend that he didn’t care. And what was he supposed to say? ‘Hey, Cas, I know that you’ve miraculously been allowed to reassume your angelic form and you’re able to go back to Heaven, the home you thought you’d been banished from forever, but the thing is that I’ve fallen stupidly in love with you, so… would you mind sticking around?’ There was no way Dean was going to be that selfish. And so he had let Castiel go.

He still had Bobby. And Bobby still had him. This is his life, and Dean isn’t going to run away from it anymore.

Dean pulls up at the end of Bobby’s drive, and kills the engine. The sudden silence scares him a little, and Dean is suddenly very aware of the space between himself and the stars, and how much emptiness there is, and how small _he_ is, and how much distance there is between him and his lover. Because now that Cas has gone, Dean is free to think of him in that way. Dean is free to pretend that it really _had >_ happened. He can pretend that the night he and Castiel had spent together in the world that belonged only to them had been real, and that Cas was his, and that things had been perfect, just for a minute there. He had to hang onto something.

Dean gets out of the car, closing the door quietly behind him. There’s a light on in Bobby’s front room, so he knows the hunter must be home. He’ll go up there in a minute, but Dean needs some time, just a little, to collect his thoughts. Funny that after feeling so achingly lonely, the thought of company suddenly doesn’t feel quite so appealing.

Dean closes his eyes and leans back against the Impala. He can hear the way the trees are stirred by the breeze, and the crickets, and the sound of the distant highway. He knows that it’s a beautiful night, but that doesn’t mean much to Dean any more. Beautiful.

Dean’s not entirely sure how long he stands there with his eyes closed, mesmerised by the sounds of the night. But when he opens them, Castiel is standing two feet away from him.

“I wondered how long it would take you to get here,” he says. “We have a lot of work to do.”

Dean feels like he’s been paralysed. “You… you can’t be here,” he manages to whisper.

Castiel tilts his head to one side. “Why?”

“Because you went home, you…”

“I am home.”

“No. No, I’ve gotta be dreaming. This can’t… Cas, you left!”

“I made a promise. I told you that I would be with you until the end, and it’s not over. Besides, I… I don’t belong there anymore.”

Now Dean knows he’s _definitely_ dreaming. And it breaks his heart all over again, just when he thought there was nothing left of it to break. But then, if this is a dream, why does the burn Dean got on his hand from the exhaust pipe yesterday still hurt? And why is he a little bit hungry? And why isn’t he waking up like he usually does when Castiel comes back to him? “Is it really you?” he asks, not quite able to keep his voice steady.

“Yes.” Cas looks at him uncertainly, and Dean can see him debating what to say. “Dean, I know we never spoke about what happened. I thought that maybe you’d decided that… that things would be easier after all if we weren’t… Dean, I don’t blame you for that. But I meant what I said. Everything.”

Dean is feeling a little faint now. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks uncomfortable. “I’m talking about… about what happened. When you were trapped in the other worlds. Between us. I know you probably don’t want me to bring it up again, and I won’t, but I need you to know that I—”

“Wait! Wait, wait, wait. No, that… that was a dream. None of it was real, Cas! I dreamt the whole thing! I wasn’t in any other worlds, I just fell into some kind of… weird coma thing. It was all in my head, and we never… we didn’t…”

Castiel takes a step towards him, and Dean can’t speak any more.

“Dean. Do you know that the structure of the universe and the structure of the human brain look almost identical? They are composed in exactly the same way. This is no coincidence. Just because something happens inside your head… it doesn’t mean that it isn’t real.”

Everything starts to spin a little, and Dean is glad that he’s being propped up by his car because otherwise he’s fairly sure that he’d fall over. His ears are ringing. This is… God, if Dean wakes up this time, he’ll die. Things like this don’t happen to him. He isn’t this lucky. It occurs to him that Cas is still talking, and he struggles to refocus.

“—understand if you don’t want to mention it again. I know that you want things to be different, and that you’re with…” He can’t even say her name. “I understand. But… but if there’s any way that I can be in your life, then… then that’s enough. I can’t leave. Not anymore.”

“You… it… it was real?” There seems to be something wrong with Dean’s tongue. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because I saw that you were trying to block it from your mind. I thought you didn’t… I just wanted to make it easier for you. Dean, all I want is to be… something to you. It doesn’t really matter what, just—”

“I thought it was a dream,” Dean says, and his voice is so small. “I thought it wasn’t real, and that you’d never…”

“I did. Do.”

“It’s over with Lisa. It was never… I just wanted to forget. It was too fucking painful to think about it, and I thought that maybe I could… but I couldn’t. And it’s been killing me for months because I thought that I’d made the whole thing up, and…”

Castiel moves even closer and lifts a hand to gently touch Dean’s face, making it impossible for Dean to say anything else because it feels like there’s something in his throat. Cas is looking like him as if he’s the only thing in the world, and it’s so good that it’s painful. They’re so close, and Dean can hardly breathe, and he knows that any minute they’re going to kiss, and he might just die from that. But then something weird happens. An owl screeches, and it makes Castiel jump.

Dean leans back and looks at him searchingly. “Cas, why are you… Oh, shit. You’re human again. What did they do to you?”

Castiel smiles. “They didn’t do anything. I was given a choice – either take up my former place in the hierarchy of Heaven and forget everything that passed here on Earth, or… or become one of you.”

“But… why? Why would you… I mean… it’s your _home_.”

“Not anymore.”

“But… Cas, do you realize what you’re… how could you _choose_ this?”

“I did it for you. Because otherwise I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise.”

“Shit, Cas! You can’t just… you can’t put this on me! This is… I don’t want you to give everything up!”

“I’m not.”

“But… why? I mean, you were an _angel_. An angel, Cas! Why the hell would you just give something like that up?”

“Because I love you,” Castiel says simply. He says it like it’s easy, like loving someone isn’t the scariest damn thing you could ever hope to do, and it’s just too much.

Dean doesn’t want to start crying, he really doesn’t. It’s not going to do any good, and it’s just going to make him look really lame. He knows all of this. But this is too much. He’s so tired and so confused and he thought he’d lost everything, and he feels horribly guilty, but mostly it’s because no one has ever loved him like this before, and it’s just so completely terrifying and wonderful and unexpected, and he just can’t quite cope with it.

But then, it’s okay. Because it’s Cas, and he’s holding Dean so tightly, and it doesn’t matter that Dean isn’t strong or brave or smart. All that matters is that Castiel doesn’t let go now or he’ll fall; but Castiel will never do that.

When Castiel kisses him this time, it’s completely different from before. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty. This time, Cas knows _exactly_ what he wants, and he clearly isn’t afraid to enlighten Dean of this fact. It’s all desperation and hunger and thinking they’d never have this again and the feeling that if they ever stop something will tear them apart again and neither of them would survive that a second time.

Dean fumbles behind him for the handle of the door to the back seat, and opens it clumsily. The two of them practically fall inside, and it feels like they might just kill themselves if they don’t look out.

“Hey,” Dean says breathlessly, “you’re not going to make the windows explode this time, are you?”

He feels Castiel smile against his neck. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Oh, to hell with it,” Dean says, feeling slightly delirious from what Cas’s hands are doing. “How much does glass cost anyway?”

“No more thinking,” Cas whispers.

After that, there’s nothing but warmth and flesh and love and love and love.

…

“I don’t think I can move,” Dean says, his head resting just over Castiel’s heart. He can feel it beating, slowly returning to a regular rhythm.

“So… We didn’t break the car. But I may have broken you.”

Dean laughs softly. “I’ll live.” This has all happened so quickly. And it would all be completely wonderful if it wasn’t for the nagging sense of guilt that’s coming back to him now. Castiel has sacrificed _everything_. For Dean. And he’s terrified of the day when Cas regrets his decision.

“Dean, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

Dean frowns. “You… you can still read my thoughts? Because I’d appreciate a little warning.”

“No, I can’t. I just know you. I don’t want you to feel responsible, Dean; this was my decision.”

“I know, it’s just that… Cas, I’m so scared that I’m gonna let you down.”

“You couldn’t. Dean, you mustn’t think that I made this choice without consideration. When I came back, I didn’t expect anything from you. I just… I just wanted to be a part of your life again, that was all. And now that we have _this_ , it’s… it’s more than I ever hoped for.”

“But when you were human before, you hated it. And it’s only a matter of time before—”

“Dean. I knew exactly what I was getting this time. I know that it will be hard and painful and frustrating a lot of the time, but being human… it has its perks. And if you’ll be here, I don’t mind the other stuff. I won’t care about growing old if it’s with you.”

“But what if something happens? Cas, if you get hurt, or… I won’t be able to forgive myself. And you know there’s only so many times you’ll be able to pull this resurrection shit. I mean, the last time you were human you got yourself blown up, and—”

“So you’d rather that I stayed there, all alone through the vast ages of time? Yes, I was an angel, but… but you taught me to feel like a man, and that isn’t something I can just forget. I told you before. I know now why people would be willing to sacrifice all they have for moments like this, and I will stand by that. I know what I’m doing, Dean. I would… I would rather have ten minutes of wonderful than a whole lifetime of nothing special.”

This makes Dean look up. “Dude… are you quoting _Steel Magnolias_ at me?”

Cas raises an eyebrow. “Perhaps. Are you saying that you know _Steel Magnolias_ well enough to recognise when it’s being quoted at you?”

“ _No_ , I… Shut up.”

Castiel pulls him close again.

“ _Spongebob Squarepants_ and _Steel Magnolias_ … what am I gonna do with you?”

Castiel’s fingers are tracing patterns in Dean’s hair, and it’s unbelievably relaxing. “Things will get better,” he says.

“Hmm.”

“Tomorrow we’ll find Sam, and then we can—”

“Wait, what? Cas, much as I hate to say it, but I think finding Sam is gonna be a little more difficult than that. I mean, you might have been able to mosey into Hell once upon a time, but I’m guessing that it won’t be so easy now.”

“Sam isn’t in Hell. He came back.”

Dean is instantly awake again. “What?”

Castiel looks a little guilty. “That was one of the things I came to tell you. But then you… distracted me. I’m sorry.”

“But… how? And if he’s back, then why didn’t he come find me?”

“I don’t know. Those are questions that only Sam will be able to answer. But we need to find him first. And then everything will be—”

“Better,” Dean finishes. Because Castiel is right. It’s going to be hard and painful and frustrating, but Dean knows that he can cope with it. Because Castiel’s back, and Sam is back, and they and Bobby will find him. He’ll get his family back, and if there are golden moments like this in Dean’s future, he can cope with anything else life throws at him. Castiel has brought him back to life in so many ways; he’s the last thing Dean ever thought would happen, and he’s changed everything, and now nothing will ever be the same. The thought makes Dean smile.

…

It’s fairly safe to say that Bobby Singer is not a man who is easily surprised. He’s seen just about everything, good and bad, that life could possibly throw at him. He’s seen hellspawn and angels, and he’s fought them both. He’s seen men come back from the dead, more than once. Hell, he’s even done it himself. There’s nothing that could shock him now.

And so when Castiel turned up on his doorstep last night, very much human again, telling him that Sam was back from the dead, Bobby took it all in his stride. He invited the former angel in, put him in one of the guest bedrooms, and made him some mac and cheese. And then when he noticed Dean’s car pull up at the end of his drive, and Cas hastily said that he would go and tell him the news about Sam, Bobby just shrugged his shoulders. And when he wanders down there the next morning and sees Dean and Castiel wrapped up in a blanket on the backseat, sleeping in each other’s arms like two children, Bobby smiles. About time, he thinks. The tension had become almost unbearable – there was only so much more eye-sex he could have taken.

Bobby goes inside to put on a pot of coffee and fry up some bacon. They’ve all got a long day ahead of them, and when those boys wake up they’re going to be hungry.


End file.
